When I get Where I'm Going
by Ms Llewellyn
Summary: Dave Karofsky is committed to Community Service for vandalizing the school on a Rehabilitation Ranch for Horses. There he finds the ability to accept himself, a scared horse named occum, and it also helps that there is a hot ranch hand named Jack. Dave/OC


**_When I get Where I'm Going_**

_Dave Karofsky has had a rough year, still unwilling to admit he was gay. He was on a sharp spiral downwards, feeling lost and out of control. He never thought he would find what he was looking for helping out at rehabilitation Ranch for horses on the outskirts of Lima or meet a silent ranchhand that could have his breath stolen or his heart beaten with one look. But perhaps Dave was always meant to be alone, because Jackson Blackwood was engaged to a city girl named Elise Montrose. But could she ever love the wild soul that Jackson had the way Dave craved too?_

**_Prologue_**

Dave Karofsky didn't know what to do.

So the only thing he did was sit and toss the football up into the air, alone on the bleachers long after the school had emptied. A lot had happened this year, some shit he never would have even imagined. He never thought he'd be the threatening kind, but he threatened a kid smaller and weaker than him, simply because he knew a secret that Dave wasn't ready to admit too. At least, then he hadn't been - now, still a long ways off, but at least he don't run screaming at the mention of certain slurs. He knew exactly what fear and anger could drive him too and he knew, had his mama still been alive today she'd be disappointed in him - he hated to disappoint her.

So really his next actions were about to contradict those feelings, but hell, he'd been doing that all year. What was one more offense? What else was he to do with all these feelings swirling around inside of himself - to him this was the only option. Letting the ball slide from his fingers, he picks up his bag and heads towards the school, that football falling closer and closer down the stairs towards the field. To make himself feel better, he needed to break something or in this case, vandalize something.

The halls of McKinley are empty and dark and it had this air about it that you'd see in those corny horror flicks were the cheerleader goes after her death by following the mysterious noise - well Dave wasn't a cheerleader and their certainly wasn't any mysterious noise, but it might just lead to death, academically speaking. This last action may get him expelled, placed in juvie, hell even kicked off the football team; perhaps he should have cared more for the consequences, but he didn't. He stopped caring, because caring made him angry and fearful and hurt and he didn't want to feel anything anymore other than satisfaction. He wanted to feel good and the only time he felt higher than a kite was when he was bullying someone weaker and smaller than him. It was just another thing he hated.

Mr Figgin's office was dark, cold and abandoned. Dave let the bag slide from his fingers and hit the ground before he crouched before it, opened it, and grabbed a cylinder can with a black cap. Standing, he uncapped it, shook it, and pressed the release and with a small bitter smile he watched the black paint taint the beige walls.

It seemed only seconds, but hours passed as he made his way from Figgin's office to the outer halls of the school. The air was heavy with the smell of paint and his eyes took in the multicolored swirls and dips. Lockers were covered, the floor was covered and if he could have reached the ceiling it would probably be covered too. It almost seemed in some strange way, like a tidal wave of emotion burst forth and decorated the halls of this teenage hell. It made the storm calm within Dave's chest.

Can after can, color after color, was discarded. And as the sun turned the skies pink with sunrise, David was down to his last cans and had long since moved outside. As the last can of vibrant sparkly purple spray paint emptied he stood from his crouched position in front of the McKinley High School sign. The morning caught the glitter within the paint, making the giant purple Donkey Kong character stand out. Not many people would know the significance, but some of his friends called him DK, short for Donkey Kong because of his weight and height and his fascination with the game in middle school - most thought it was short for David Karofsky. Essentially, David was signing his name, claiming this chaos as his work, like an artist claiming their masterpiece. He was just a regular Picasso.

Dropping the can carelessly, he yawned. His body was heavy with exhaustion and his thoughts clear for once. Sleep tugged at him. Taking one last look at the hell he created and with a lopsided grin, grabbing his now empty bag, he turned and walked across the schools parking lot towards his Tacoma the color of spruce mica. The drive home was the same as every other day - Dave tired and the radio blasting some new country song by some artist who knows where. For a teenage boy, his truck is clean and doesn't smell like a boys locker room. That's because it's his pride and joy, saved up all his money since he was fifteen just so he could have his own vehicle, like the older popular kids. He snorts derisively, a mocking sound. Popularity was overrated, as he's come to find quite harshly. It's not like Dave needs popularity to function, but Karofsky craved the thing, the cover it gave to hide all the deformities. Like a mask of gold hides all deformities. But Karofsky, the bully, the slightly psychotic teenager that plays right-guard for the McKinley titans is a deformity. Dave uses him to hide. And David really doesn't want to be slushied, that shit is cold, like getting bitch slapped by an Iceberg.

It's not long before he pulls into his drive way, the house was still and quiet. So he falls into it, quiet like and makes his way to his room, avoiding all the creaky steps - a skill he's honed since he's been invited to his first house party freshman year, coming home late and buzzed from the booze the older kids managed to bring. He closes the door behind him, chucks the empty bag into some corner and sheds his clothes leaving him in nothing but his boxer-briefs. He glances into the full length mirror as he walks towards his bed.

Kurt Hummel was wrong about one thing, he wasn't chubby. David is all muscle, he's solidly built. He thanks football for that and hockey. He was sure if he didn't play sports, he'd be fat, like Strando or his father. But Dave's always been a little self-conscious about his body, more particularly the body hair. He shakes his head dislodging the nostalgic feeling fogging his thoughts, doesn't want to go back into the memories of being in the fifth grade and having Finn Hudson and the rest of the boys in the locker room laughing at him because he matured faster physically than the other fifth graders. He really didn't like Finn. He falls into his bed with a soft 'oomph' and buries his head into his pillow, that feels like a fucking cloud after the all nighter he pulled. The fabric of his sheets and blankets are chilled and feel like heaven on his heated skin.

He wonders ideally if he should lock the door, but decides against it. He's too tired to get up - besides he wasn't going to school. Screw it. Before long, his eyes droop and his breathing levels, and its to the sound of his parents waking that he finally succumbs to Morpheus.


End file.
